


no lies just love

by Corinth (syren_song)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cults, F/M, M/M, i accidentally made hela loki's mom, i didn't mean to but i did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 07:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syren_song/pseuds/Corinth
Summary: In an alternate universe where everyone is human, Thor must consult the one person who could help prevent Loki from going down the wrong path: his murderous sister Hela.





	no lies just love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not used to posting chapter fiction, and I'm definitely not used to writing these characters, so comments are appreciated. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

“Hello, little prince.” Hela’s droll voice crept up Thor’s spine like an army of tiny spiders; gentle, yet with a pervasive ability to unsettle. Thor didn’t consider himself easy to rattle, but there was a darkness in his sister’s eyes, a dangerous tinge to her confidence which set him on edge. He felt, for a moment, that Hela was standing above him rather than sitting on the wrong side of bulletproof glass.

“Sister,” Thor acknowledged. A tense moment passed, neither sibling willing to break either eye contact or the silence. Thor’s eyes watered; he looked down and away. “I want to know why,” he told the cheap plastic phone connecting them across the bulletproof glass. He focused on her nails tapping rhythmically against the cold metal table. _Click-click-clack_. _Click-clack-click_. He could imagine the way they sounded, rattling like a snake, bright as her orange jumpsuit.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.” She looked strange without her usual smear of makeup, and orange wasn’t her color, not the way green and black were. Her hair had grown out since her arrest, natural blonde roots bleeding through the black dye. She should have looked weak, washed out, shallow, like all the other prisoners did. Instead, she looked like what she was: a queen. She lifted one finely tweezed eyebrow. “I assume you didn’t just come here to stare at me.”

“You’re right,” Thor said. “I didn’t.” She watched him curiously, as if he were a new exhibit in her favorite museum. A knife, perhaps, or a medieval torture device. Those seemed like objects Hela would appreciate, and the creeping shivery feeling returned as Thor wondered what about him could make her look like that. “Why did you kill Father?”

Hela tutted, shaking her head slowly. “Thor,” she chided. “You know there’s no evidence I had anything to do with his death.”

“And you know that’s a technicality, sister. We both know you did it.”

“Wishing is not the same thing as knowing, brother.” Thor flinched. Hela narrowed in on the motion, smirking. “If wishing were the same thing as doing, I would not be the only one behind bars.”

Thor rubbed the back of one hand across his mouth. “You’ve done a lot more than wishing, Hela. And you will rot in here for what you’ve done.” Hela’s nails continued their tapping, _click-click-clack, click-clack-click_.

“And what is it that I’ve done, little prince? What are you so afraid of?” The chair screeched against the tile floors as Thor pushed away from the table, standing. Hela’s chin jutted forward, hair falling away from her forehead, dark strands stark against the bones of her face and neck. “Was it something that I said?”

“One day, Hela, you will own up to your crimes. I hope for your sake it will be sooner rather than later.” Thor looked her dead in the eye as he hung up, but unfortunately, he could still read her lips: See you next week. Her green eyes haunted him as he turned away, as he was processed on the way out of the prison, as he drove home and the rain splattered against his windshield. Thor suspected those eyes would haunt him as long as he lived.

*

As a child, Thor locked Hela away in the corner of his mind, under the category of “things not to think about.” When he was five years old and just barely sentient, there was a dark night and loud voices crashed from behind the large oak door leading to Father’s study. The words were low and unintelligible, angry as lightning, banging against each other like thunder. Finally, Hela stormed out, taut as a bow, sharp as a knife. She was twenty-three then, hair already chemically dark, eyes smudged into darkness, clothes pulled so tightly to her skin they ripped. Hela’s eyes caught on him, so small, huddled in the corridor. Her expression twisted, half manic and half proud. Her clawed hand came up, and when it came down again, Thor had one eye. He never saw from his right eye again, and he never saw Hela at all—that is, not for another eighteen years.

When he was six years old he met little baby Loki, who had the most remarkable green eyes. The first time he held his baby brother, Thor promised that no harm would come to him, rain or shine. Family, Thor thought, is more important than anything. And so the years passed, playing with and protecting and forgiving his brother, accepting his mother’s fondness and her smiles, chasing his father’s approval. Sometimes Thor wasn’t sure which part of the equation was the most important; he never forgot his promise, but it could be overshadowed by his father and the weight of Legacy.

Sometimes, Thor blamed himself for the way things turned out. Maybe he hadn’t protected Loki enough; maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention. Maybe a thousand things. In the end, after Freyja died, Loki unhinged. He started picking fights and starting fires, drawing himself tauter and tauter, sharpening himself for a precision kill, and at the age of twenty-two, Thor found himself huddled again, childlike, in the corridor outside his father’s study as a tempest raged inside.

*

Thor grabbed his father’s hand with his toddler’s palm, warm, sweaty, and surprisingly firm. His father chucked, swinging him up onto his shoulders. “Do you know why I brought you here, Thor?” he asked.

“Nuh-uh,” Thor said, patting his father’s head contemplatively. One of his father’s hands reached up to still his hands and Thor wriggled, so his father steadied his legs. Thor stopped just as the elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. The doors slid open to reveal the top floor of an office building, complete with a surly secretary. Her lips pursed at the sight of Thor perched on his father’s shoulders, but she was wise enough not to comment. She nodded curtly. Odin ignored her, passing through a set of golden doors inscribed with three interlocking triangles, and entered his office.

A large oak desk, several wooden bookcases, and plush leather furniture occupied the space, but the real draw were the expansive windows flagging the desk. The windows drenched Odin’s office in rich, natural light. Thor gasped, and his father obligingly set him down on the smooth laminate floor. Thor rushed to the window, pressing his warm palm to the cool glass, leaving little heat impressions in his wake. “I could touch the clouds,” Thor said. They seemed so close.

“Maybe you will,” his father said indulgently. “One day this office will be yours, no matter what your sister thinks. One day this whole building will be yours, and the company with it.”

“The clouds too?”

Odin rocked back a little, humming noncommittally. He watched his son for a moment; Thor’s eyes remained on the clouds. “When this belongs to you, it will be an enormous responsibility. Golden City controls financials for more than just the States, you know.” He paused. “Thor.” Thor tore himself away from the window, turning towards his father. Odin crouched down so they were on eye-level. “There are two things you must do: don’t let Hela know I brought you here, and don’t listen to anything she tells you about me.” Thor made his face as serious as a four-year-old could (which was not very serious) and nodded. “Good boy,” Odin said, then stood.

*

A car honked, jolting Thor back into the present. He merged onto the interstate as the rain began in earnest, falling in heavy sheets, diluting all the hard and steady lines into confusion and ambiguity. Lightning crackled overhead. Thor loved this kind of weather, but it was a nightmare to drive through, especially when he had an hour on the highway and another twenty minutes of backroads to navigate his way through. Hela would probably laugh if she was capable of any emotion other than fury or distant smugness. He pulled over to the right lane; some of the other cars wanted to go seventy miles an hour, even under these conditions, and like hell was Thor going to get into an accident in this shitty weather after a shitty visit with his shitty sister.

The car behind him hydroplaned, crashing into the back of Thor’s Cadillac. Thor swerved into the emergency lane, switching on his hazard lights, and allowed himself a brief second to close his eyes and lay his head against the steering wheel before parking and pulling the parking brake, just in case. Of course he was wearing a white shirt and didn’t have an umbrella. At least his cell phone was intact and fully charged, mercy of mercies. Thor got out of his car, slamming the door behind him, and jogged the ten-to-fifteen feet between his car and the vehicle that smashed into him. The cars on the interstate slowed down, headlights flashing as they passed; everyone wanted to witness the scene of the accident, as long as they weren’t involved.

The other car was a corolla, or at least Thor guessed as much from whatever remained of the hood. Thor didn’t stop to compare the damage done to his own car, though he imagined it would be just as extensive. The other driver’s airbags had deployed, his head was back, and his eyes were closed. Thor’s heart sped up and he knocked hesitantly on the driver’s window. Thankfully, the man’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly, as if unsure where he was. A small crack ran through the length of the left lens of his glasses, probably from the force of the airbag. Thor waved lamely, and the man scrambled out of his side of the car. He was an average height, so several inches smaller than Thor, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. Cheap, but nice. Thor could respect it.

“Oh no,” the man said, tugging at his hair in large tufts. He circled around the front of his car, surveying the damage. Thor stood around awkwardly, wondering if he should call 911. A fat raindrop splashed across his face, sliding down his nose. “Oh no, oh, this can’t happen.” His breaths seemed to be coming quicker. Thor stepped up to him, clapping him gently on the shoulder. The man staggered forward.

“It happens to us all,” Thor said in his best CEO voice. “Can I get your insurance information, Mister…?”

“Banner,” the man said, blinking. Thor wondered how much he could see between the crack in his glasses and the rain on the lenses. “Doctor Banner, or Bruce, if you prefer.” Thor tried not to be impressed by the title “doctor;” failed; regathered himself.

“I’m Thor.” Bruce’s eyebrow quirked, but he had the grace not to ask. “I’m going to call 911 so we can file a police report. Why don’t you walk with me to my car, so we can both get out of the rain?” Bruce looked up at the sky, blinked again. Thor wondered if he just realized it was raining, and if so, whether the man had a concussion or was lying about being a doctor. A streak of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a crash. Bruce jumped at the sound and hastened to follow Thor.

Another small mercy: Thor received cell service and quickly explained the situation to a 911 operator, who said that similar accidents were occurring all over the highway. She promised that an officer would be there soon and hung up. “So, Thor,” Bruce started, “where were you headed?”

“I was just on the way home from visiting my sister,” he said. “You?”

Bruce fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. A bead of water traced down his neck. “I was on my way back to the university. I had, ah, anger management therapy and was running late for class. Guess I should tell them that class is cancelled—even if I weren’t ridiculously late, there’s no way I can make it to the university now. Sorry about your car, by the way. Between class and therapy, I got distracted.”

“Anger management therapy?” Thor asked, brows creasing. “You don’t seem that angry.”

“Give it a minute,” the man said wryly and leaned his head back against Thor’s leather seats.

An awkward moment passed, and Thor drummed his fingers against his steering wheel. Bruce reached over and placed a hand over Thor’s fingers, silencing him. The car grew quiet again.

Thor cleared his throat. “So, where do you teach?”

“Culver University.”

“No kidding?” Thor leaned forward. “My ex works there! What are the odds?”

“Wait, really?” Bruce looked at him. “Who’s your ex?”

“Jane Foster.”

“Your ex is Dr. Foster?! She’s incredible! Her work in astrophysics is phenomenal. She’s on that sabbatical in New Mexico, though you probably already heard about that.”

Thor nodded. “My little brother also goes to Culver,” he said.

“Oh really? What’s he studying?”

“Witchcraft,” Thor said dryly. It was easier to explain than Loki’s dual love for chemistry and theater. Bruce seemed confused, but a police car pulled up before he could ask any more questions.

The officer jogged to Bruce’s car, and Bruce and Thor quickly stepped out of Thor’s Cadillac to let the officer know where they were. Bruce circled around the front of the car so that he and Thor stood side by side. “I apologize in advance,” Bruce said lowly. “I don’t know how much my insurance will cover, and I’m not sure how to pay for this.” Something lodged itself into Thor’s throat.

The officer, a portly redhead, walked forward to meet them. “Alright,” she said, “what happened here? Who was responsible for the accident?”

“Well, I—”

“It was me,” Thor interrupted. Bruce glanced at him, bewildered. “I didn’t signal properly that I was switching lanes, and I didn’t give Dr. Banner enough notice. The accident was my fault.” Bruce’s jaw clicked shut.

“Alright, what time did this occur, mister—?”

“Thor Ravenwood. The accident occurred about twenty minutes to half an hour ago.” She scribbled down a couple of notes on her pad, keeping it tucked closely to her chest to avoid most of the rain. She asked a couple more questions, made a few more notes, and wrote Thor a ticket. “Do you have anyone you can call to pick you up?” Thor asked after the officer left, they returned to his car, and he had called a tow truck.

“I was thinking of calling my friend Valkyrie. She works pretty flexible hours, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll respond.”

Thor paused in the middle of dialing. “Valkyrie, as in the private investigator-slash-bodyguard-slash-whatever Valkyrie?”

“You know her?”

“I was just about to call her.” A moment passed.

“She’s going to laugh her ass off.”

“Yes, she will.”

Valkyrie arrived an hour later and did, in fact, laugh her ass off. The rain had faded into a lazy drizzle and most of the traffic had passed, leaving Bruce and Thor as the only two sad sacks on that stretch of road. “Hey, sad sacks,” she said when she finished laughing. “About time you two met.” Thor heaved a sigh of relief and made for the passenger side door. “Hey, hey, hey, you know the rules. Vodka gets shotgun, everyone else sits in the back.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Bruce said. Valkyrie and Thor ignored him. Thor reasoned that she could drive with as much alcohol as she liked, so long as she wasn’t drinking and driving anymore. Too many DUIs and she could lose her investigative credentials.

“Where to?” Valkyrie asked, then proceeded to gun it down the mostly empty highway. Bruce clamped his eyes shut and appeared to be counting backwards from one hundred. Thor, for his part, held onto his seatbelt and was as stoic as possible (which was not very stoic).

Somehow, they ended up at Thor’s too-big house, drinking screwdrivers (Bruce and Thor) or straight shots of vodka (Valkyrie). Everything seemed funnier after a certain level of intoxication. Valkyrie stretched out across the couch, feet propped up against the armrest, boots kicked off somewhere on the floor. Bruce slumped in the armchair to the left of the couch, and Thor sat on the floor in-between. Valkyrie laughed quietly, upper torso shaking at the force. Bruce sat with the heels of his palms digging into his eyes, glasses pushed to the top of his head, releasing high pitched giggles. Thor buried his face in his arms, which were crossed over his knees, snorting. “That’s how you wound up in anger management?” Thor breathed between snorts.

“Yep,” Bruce said, still giggling. The real story wasn’t that funny, but the idea of an average, even meek nuclear physics professor wreaking havoc in Harlem was so outlandish and strange in Thor’s lavish, comfortable house that the only thing they could do was laugh. “And it was all Valkyrie’s fault.”

“Was not,” Valkyrie said, sitting up sharply. “If you’ll excuse me, I need more vodka.” She wriggled the empty bottle for emphasis, expertly weaving her way across the floor, stumbling but never falling. Bruce and Thor cheered gamely, and she flipped them off without looking before rounding a corner out of sight.  
Bruce wiped his eyes. “So that was my story,” he said. “How did you meet Valkyrie? Strip club? Or, no, no, a drunken rodeo. She seems like the rodeo type.”

“I can hear you, asshole,” Valkyrie shouted. Bruce ignored her.

Thor picked his glass of the floor, twisting it a bit so it caught the light and reflected it back. His mother picked out this set for one of his parents’ wedding anniversaries, Thor could never remember which. Twentieth, maybe. It was fine crystal with a light feathering pattern. “It’s not a fun story,” Thor said, suddenly sober.

“Hey,” Bruce said, reaching out for Thor. From the angle and the difference in their positions, he wound up patting Thor awkwardly on the head, like a well-behaved dog. “I’m sorry that it’s not a fun memory. You deserve fun memories.” Thor thought vaguely that Bruce must be an affectionate drunk but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

A key turned in the lock of the front door, which faced the parlor Thor and Bruce occupied. A thin, weaselly face framed by black waves appeared at the door, but the figure stopped when it caught sight of Thor and Bruce. Bruce’s hand was still on Thor’s head.

“Thor,” Loki said, “what did I say about sleeping with my professors?” Bruce flushed, retracting his hand.

“As if you would ever take physics,” Thor said absently. “I thought you weren’t coming back until the weekend.”

“It’s Friday,” Loki said, eyes narrowing. “And your car wasn’t in the driveway. In fact, the only car I saw was…” Valkyrie came back into the room, wielding fresh vodka. “…hell-beast,” Loki greeted her.

“Demon spawn,” she acknowledged, twisting the top of the bottle and taking a swig. Loki made a face.

“I feel like there’s a lot going on here that I don’t understand,” Bruce told Thor.

“Sometimes it’s better not to ask,” Thor said. “Bruce, my brother Loki, Loki, you apparently are already familiar with Dr. Banner.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Loki said drolly. “Dr. Banner became quite famous following his…incident. How nice it must have been, already having tenure.”

“Be nice.”

Loki sniffed. He shifted the messenger bag on his shoulder, still standing hesitantly in the doorway. Bruce shifted the glass in his hands. “Maybe I should go,” he said stiffly.

“Nonsense,” Thor said, rising to his feet. He braced himself against the couch as he rose, gingerly testing out his legs. “You’re in no state to drive, even if you had a car, and it’s too late to worry about cabs. I have plenty of spare rooms, you can spend the night here and figure out everything else tomorrow.”

“You’re too nice,” Bruce mumbled.

“That part is actually true,” Valkyrie said. “You just met the guy, and you’re letting him sleep in your house? What if he steals something?”

“Hey,” Bruce said. “I can hear you.”

“I may have just met him, but you know him, and he knows Jane. Besides, how do you expect him to steal anything if he can’t drive?” Valkyrie and Loki looked like they had a few ideas, and Thor hastened to add, “I’m a supreme judge of character.”

“That is demonstrably false,” Loki said. For the sake of his ego, Thor ignored him.

“Let me show you to the guest room, Dr. Banner,” Thor said, taking Bruce’s glass and setting it aside. Bruce pulled down his glasses to his face and rose, going where Thor guided him. “Valkyrie, you take your normal room. Loki, you know where your room is.”

“Cheers,” Valkyrie said, and flopped back down on the couch. Loki finally shut the front door, edging his way into the room so that he could reach the stairs without coming too close to Valkyrie. He followed Thor and Bruce at a distance.

Thor led Bruce to the first door to the left at the top of the stairs. Inside, the room was decorated in blues, greens, and greys. It was surprisingly sparse save for a bookshelf with a handful of weathered paperbacks and a wooden dresser with old athletic trophies. The room was free from dirt or dust, and the sheets were fresh, but at the same time conveyed the feeling that it hadn’t been in regular use for some time. “This used to be my room,” Thor said. “Some of my old sweats should still be in the drawers. It’s not the same thing as pajamas, but better than sleeping in your same button-down and slacks.” An indescribable emotion crept over Bruce’s face when he saw the room, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“You really are too nice, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.” Thor smiled tiredly and said his goodnights, shutting the door behind him.

*

Jane was the first woman Thor ever loved, but they came down with a case of bad timing. They met when they were nineteen, when Jane graduated, and Thor was still in undergrad. They started dating a year after that, and for a while, Thor thought he would marry her. She was smart, strong, independent. She dreamed of the heavens and stars. She wanted to touch the clouds. She was scientist, and Thor fell for her methodical soul just as much as he fell for her soft eyes or the curve of her smile or the way she taught him the constellations. Even Odin approved, and he had never approved of anyone else—male or female—that Thor had interest in. Then Odin died, and Thor met Valkyrie, and everything fell apart.


End file.
